


Juno

by hangonsilvergirl



Series: The Best Jokes Are Bad Ones [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, F/M, High School, Knock Knock Jokes, Swearing, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenage Dorks, Teenage Drama, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 08:05:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6276295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangonsilvergirl/pseuds/hangonsilvergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"If this tux is covered in condiments, and Dad has to pay for rental damage or some shit, he’s going to tie me to a fence post and stone me with f**king chicken nuggets."</i>
</p><p>***</p><p>Ed and Winry, in the backseat of a car, after Winry's prom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Juno

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter of INABD is still not quite finished. I've been working on this for a while, though. I hope that it is somewhat sating. :)

Winry felt suddenly like an after-school PSA in progress.

It was her prom night. She was dressed in glittery turquoise sequins and tulle, the former a layered skirt currently pushed up to her waist. She was on her back in the backseat of a car, parked at some lovers-lane styled city look-out. The windows were fogged. A boy (her date) hovered enthusiastically above her in a tux, cursing his prosthetic leg for getting caught in--and thoroughly ripping the shit out of--her pantyhose. 

Okay, so it wasn’t a complete and _total_ cliche, but Meatloaf _was_ on the radio asking Ellen Foley to “let me sleep on it.” _So_. What the heck kind of odds were those? Jeff Franklin couldn’t have set-up this opportunity to impart family values any better if Winry were actually D.J. Tanner on prime-time Friday night television. (Or on Netflix, eventually.)

Winry couldn’t help herself. She started giggling.

Given, there was something of a precedent for this behaviour from her and Edward; considering their school situations meant that they only saw one other on weekends, pretty much every date ended up this way. Those were minus the dress-up, of course, but absolutely featured askew clothing, panting, and pink lips nearly rubbed raw from excessive, _excessive_ kissing. That she felt like a princess (a debauched one, maybe, but a princess nonetheless), and that Ed was rocking a white tux jacket and bowtie (“Bowties are fucking cool, Winry.”) was really, at this point, a hinderance; as nice as the two of them had looked strolling into her high school gymnasium earlier in the evening, stripping out of their fancy duds for a proper, mutual groping was proving to be a massive pain in the ass. Pun unintended.

Winry snorted.

Ed had successfully managed to unsnag his leg, and turned his head to look at her with a raised eyebrow. There was a smile playing on his fading frustration, like he found something funny too, but wasn’t sure whether or not it was the same thing that Winry was finding funny. Her pantyhose were now a shredded mess. She felt her tiara--looped around a haphazard looking top knot that had, originally, been a beautiful, sleek bun--slip off of her head and hit the floor, falling into a sea of empty McDonald’s and Arby’s bags. (If Winry had said it once, she’d said it a thousand times; if cleanliness was next to godliness, then her car was the portal to hell.)

“What?” Ed asked. He was sitting up on his knees though stooped over, upper body too tall for the height of the car. Winry was laughing sort of uncontrollably now, ramping herself up with snorts, getting to that gasping-for-breath point. Ed grinned at this, but still seemed pretty bemused. She wasn’t exactly capable of answering--wheeze, snort, giggle, gasp, snort, wheeze--and so Ed seized what Winry supposed was a glaring opportunity for badness, bending further down and burying his face in her neck. He started making growling sounds and nipped at her skin, egging her further on.

She started swatting at him, now a hysterical mass of teenage girl, managing to eek out an admonishing sounding “Ed!” This only encouraged him further, and he started tickling her bare skin with one hand, under the inside hem of her dress. Winry’s reaction to this was to start flailing, arms and legs targeting her boyfriend, with little bearing but with plenty of intent. She got a few good whacks in while they tussled, Ed losing his advantage as they rolled side-to-side. It all came to an impressively dramatic end when Ed lost his balance and fell onto his back, on the floor with the tiara and the garbage.

“ _Ngh_!” he shouted as he landed, wedged like a sardine between the front and back seats. He was sweating now, and looked pained as he stuck a hand under his back and pulled out Winry’s hair piece. “Fucking _ow_!” he said, and tossed it at her. “Here’s your weaponized crown, holy balls.”

Winry caught it and immediately made a face. “What the--” she started; the tiara was sticky, and it wasn’t with the remnants of the gallon of hairspray that had been used to glue her hair together. “Oh, my God. This is covered in sweet and sour sauce!”

Ed was looking at his own fingers, aghast. “If this tux is covered in condiments, and Dad has to pay for rental damage or some shit, he’s going to tie me to a fence post and stone me with fucking chicken nuggets.” Gingerly Ed rose, inspecting his sleeves as he wiped his hand on one of the discarded bags. “Is there anything on the back?”

Winry threw the tiara over the seat and into the trunk, then peered at the back of Ed’s jacket, also wiping her sticky fingers off on the rubbish. “Uh. Do you want the good news, or the bad news?”

Ed made a noise like a deflating balloon.

“Well. Um. There’s no sweet and sour sauce? But. Ah. Yeah, there’s an awful lot of ketchup. That or you're bleeding profusely.”

“God, I hope so,” Ed said, and took off his coat to inspect it. The ketchup blobs looked like a Rorschach test gone wrong, and, as though he blamed the coat itself for its predicament, Ed wadded it up in a ball and crammed it into the floor. “See, now, this is _exactly_ why you should’ve let me wear a red suit.”

Winry rolled her eyes. “You are ostentatious enough _without_ a red freakin’ tuxedo. I can’t even fathom the strut it would’ve induced; you already saunter around like a pretty, blond peacock.”

“ _Pfft_ ,” Ed said, and shifted himself back up to the seat. Winry resituated the skirt of her dress, propped herself up, and tucked her feet in to give him room. “It’s called _swagger_ , Winry. YO-LO!” He grinned as she mimed retching, then gestured to the crumpled heap of coat. “All that, just to keep you laughing.”

“Glutton for punishment? Slave to my wiles?” Winry exaggeratedly batted her eyelashes.

Ed shrugged, still grinning. “What were you laughing at, anyway?”

“Oh, heh. We were sort of playing like a high school stereotype? You know, lust drunk teenagers savaging each other after the prom? _Paradise By The Dashboard Light_ was even on the radio. I was expecting some sort of _Wonder Years_ narration to start, highlighting the follies of our collective youth.”

It was Ed’s turn to snort. Then he paused. Then he looked at Winry like she’d punched the wind out of him.

“Ed?”

“Uh. You didn’t. I mean. I know, I um. I know we. Shit, I mean--” Ed’s eyes had gone wide, and he was stammering in pretty much one breath.

Winry surveyed him, confused. “What did I say?”

“We weren’t. What I mean to say is. Um.”

“Spit it out, Ed.”

“You weren’t planning on us. Uh. You know. Doing it? Were you?” He blushed spectacularly. “Like. Full on virginity gone? On prom night?”

Winry felt her mouth drop open a bit, and surveyed him, agog, for a minute too long without saying something. Ed’s face coloured redder than a tomato.

“Oh, Jesus, of course you didn’t. Fuck, I’m sorry Win--”

She cut him off. “How is it that you can rhyme off dick jokes to me without missing a beat, and we’ve fooled around and done like, everything else sex-wise, but you think that maybe I’m planning to get you laid and you just…” She gestured to all of him. “I mean, it’s adorable, don’t get me wrong, but, like. Sex is just another step, you know? The next step, I guess. Not saying that I did have some sort of grand plan for the evening, because I didn’t, but still. I kind of thought we were on our way there. Soon-ish.”

“In your car?”

“Well I would hope not, but stranger things have happened. We wouldn’t be the first people to have sex in the backseat of a car.”

Ed just sort of stared at her.

Winry punched Ed in the shoulder. “Stop acting so dumbstruck.”

He rubbed the spot where she’d hit him. “Well. You know. It’s not like we’ve ever really _talked_ about it, Win. We’ve just been _doing_ things, instead. Which. Um. Maybe hasn’t been the best idea if now there’s some precedent for us having sex for the first time in your car.”

“It’s not a big deal, Ed.”

“Right, and I’m actually three ducks in a man costume. C’mon. Of course it’s a big deal. Hasn’t everything else been? Maybe I sound like a sap or something, but shit like that is important. I don’t just want to get it over with.” He paused, and ran a hand through his hair, looking like he was trying to process a very uncomfortable thought. “Winry. You’re not just letting me _do stuff_ , are you? Or feeling like you have to do stuff too? Because, man, that’s not how I want it to be.”

Winry shook her head no, and felt tears welling up in her eyes. She wasn’t sure why this was suddenly making her so emotional; maybe it was what this evening symbolized, because now high school was almost over. It had taken until senior year to even meet Ed, and now it felt like they had to get the most out of one another. That thought sounded shallow even to Winry’s reasoning that it was emotional as well as physical, but still. Then again, maybe it was that nothing was confirmed for the summer, or for college; so much was still so up in the air, and it made all these moments seem short, and fleeting, and equal parts wonderful, hysterical, and terrifying. She wanted to say reassuring things like ‘of course not!’ or ‘I’m a lot more invested than _that_ , Edward Elric’; instead, she said, as she started sobbing, “I d-don’t want to lose m-my v-virginity in the back of my c-car!”

Ed frowned, then reached over and tucked an arm around her shoulder, pulling her tight to him as he kissed her temple. They sat quietly for a moment, Winry reaching for and taking Ed’s other hand. He let her cry without patronizing sssh’s she would’ve decked him for, and the static-y easy listening station on the radio swooned from _Purple Rain_ to _Take It Easy_.

“Hey, Win,” Ed said finally, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Knock knock.”

Winry smiled. “Who’s there?”

“Honeydew.”

“Honeydew who?”

“Honeydew you know how good you look right now?”

Winry snorted and peered up at Ed. He was grinning.

“Knock knock,” he said again.

“Who’s there?” Winry answered, smile growing wider.

“Deniro.”

“Deniro, who?”

“Deniro I get to you, the more beautiful you look.”

Winry leaned up and kissed Ed gently.

After she pulled away, he licked his lips, then bit his bottom one. He cleared his throat, and said, _again_ , “Knock knock.” This time his voice cracked a little.

“Who’s there?” Winry answered.

“Juno.”

Winry nestled into the crook of Ed’s arm a little further, still looking up at him with a smile on her face. “Juno, who?”

Ed cleared his throat again. “Juno I love you, right?”

Winry’s smile broadened into a huge, face-splitting grin. She squealed a little, then clamored upward and into Ed’s lap. She put both hands on either side of his face and kissed him soundly, thoroughly; for every other kiss they’d shared, and for every dumbass joke, for wrong numbers and happenstance, for Starbucks, and Hanson, and even for flippin’ Meatloaf. When she pulled away, breathless, Ed looked shell-shocked, but pleased. “I love you too, you lame-o. Knock knock jokes? How long have you be planning that?”

“The lamer my jokes are, the more you like them,” Ed replied, tucking some of Winry’s loose hair back behind her ear. “And long enough. Too long, maybe.”

Despite the looming finality of this chapter of her life, this moment now felt instead like the beginning of something new. She intertwined their hands and pinned Ed’s against the seat. “I’m sorry I went all weird there. I thought graduating from high school was going to be freedom. Instead it’s all sort of…”

“Unfinished?” Ed suggested.

“Yeah. Yeah, pretty much.”

“I get it. It’s this whole nostalgia-in-progress thing. Dad says there are three stages to a memory; how stupid it is when it’s happening, how glad or pissed you are when it’s over that you don’t get to do it again, and then however it makes you feel when you remember it.”

“I feel like I’m going to look back on this memory and be embarrassed.”

Ed laughed. “See, same memory, but I’m going to look back on it and--” he started singing-- “ _Remember every little thing, as if it happened only yesterday_ \--”

“Ed.”

He grinned. “ _Parking by the lake, and there was not another car in sight_.”

“Please stop.”

“Nope! _And I never had a girl, looking any better than you did! And all the kids at school, they were wishing they were me that night_.”

“You’re the worst!”

“At being the worst.” Ed let go of her hands, and pulled Winry tight to him. “ _And now our bodies are, oh, so close and tight_!”

“ _Ed_!”

“ _It never felt so good, it never felt so right_! C’mon, sing with me! Be my heart’s duet, or some other equivalent Disney shit!”

Winry was back to near-uncontrollable giggling, and Ed had started tickling her again to get her to sing. “Ah! Fine! Stop! _And we’re glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife_!”

Together they sang: “ _Glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife! C’mon, hold on tight; c’mon, hold on tight! Oh it’s cold and lonely in the deep, dark night, but I can see Paradise by the Dashboard Light._ ”

They continued the whole rock opera, like the pair of mooks they were, with aggressive pitch changes and accompanying actions. They fell back onto the seats at the end, breathless and sweaty and laughing to kill themselves. This dissolved into them picking up where they had left off before Winry’s PSA epiphany, and eventually falling asleep together using their finery for blankets. They woke up in the morning naked, but still virgins, each with a barrage of texts from friends and family wondering where the hell they were.

Winry’s favorite of the lot was from Paninya, who, in the midst of everything, she had forgotten had been parked beside her and Ed, with Olivia. She’d sent:

(11:08) keep it down, you two, your karaoke is killin my groove

(11:10) what kind of bullshit mating call is this

(11:12) teenagers everywhere should sue you both for ruining the sanctity of prom night


End file.
